Midnight My Love (16 page)

As the fruit was set on the table, Damien
thoughtfully peeled a peach. Against his will, the soft pink skin
reminded him of the feel of Alexandra in his arms. Her response to
his kisses was more than he had bargained for.

He'd been a damned fool to kiss her. He shut
his mind to the memory of her body. He must maintain control of his
emotions as well as his life. He would not be ruled by a woman. He
remembered how his father had suffered at the hands of his
beautiful wife. He remembered his own pain at his mother's
hands.

Carlisle's voice jerked Damien back to the
present.

"The trout were a delectable treat, Lord
Thane," said the squire. "My compliments to your cook, Miss
Turlington. Mrs. Abernathy outdid herself tonight. I enjoy angling,
myself," he said to the earl. "Perhaps during your stay, you might
like to visit Bramble Court and try your luck in the bass
pond."

The earl smiled his delight. "I'd love to,
Carlisle. Let's say Tuesday, if that's agreeable to everyone." He
looked eagerly around the table for consensus to this plan.

Aunt Haygood sniffed at the proposal. "That
may be well and good for you, my lord, but I doubt Lady Felicia
wants to go fishing. Am I not right, dear?"

Felicia shook her head, her silvery ringlets
bobbing with the movement. "Papa always fishes wherever we go. I'm
sure there's plenty to occupy me here at Willowmede."

Carlisle protested. "The
invitation was meant for everyone, Lady Felicia. There's an
orangery at the Court and a labyrinth in the gardens that's famous
far and wide. Plenty for you ladies to enjoy." Sir Howard beamed at
the treats he proposed. "We shall dine
alfresco
, after the men finish their
sport. Naturally, we won't fish all day and a picnic will be a
welcome end to a morning spent at the pond."

Felicia clapped her hands and gurgled with
laughter. "You don't know Papa very well. He can fish from dawn to
dusk." She looked coyly at the squire. "Your plan sounds wonderful,
Sir Howard. I would love to visit Bramble Court."

Carlisle cleared his throat and glanced
guiltily at Alexandra. Then he smiled at Felicia.

The peach Robert was trying to cut with his
new knife slipped. Damien saw his friend's frustration and was glad
when Jenny reached to help. But Robert shook his head and wiped his
mouth with his napkin. Pushing back his chair, he apologized and
left the table. The clatter and tinkling of china stopped as the
dinner guests stared after him in astonishment.

"What in heaven's name?" Aunt Haygood
exclaimed.

Alexandra started to rise, but Damien was
before her. "I'll go," he said curtly, then addressed the company.
"If you will excuse me, I'll see what's ailing Robert." Looking
around the table, he encountered a fleeting expression of gratitude
in Jenny Sedgewicke's somber eyes.

****

Robert stalked out of the dining room, not
knowing where to go. He was ashamed of his retreat and knew he'd
hurt Jenny's feelings once again. He decided to go to the
stables.

Dismissing the grooms, Robert picked up a
currycomb and began brushing Titus's sleek black coat. He had felt
like a fool, unable to peel that damned peach. Thank God, he could
still ride his horses.

The smell of hay and the warm bodies of the
cattle in their stalls were balm to Robert's disheartened spirit.
How often had he longed for the peace found in his stables while he
lay in hospital? How many times had he prayed to God to let him
die? The pain had been unbearable and the realization of his loss
consumed him. Much better to die in action, than live half a
life.

Then he came home. Suddenly, he remembered
waking from his fever and finding Jenny sitting beside his bed.
Staring at him with her soft gray eyes, she blushed when he caught
her gaze. He had felt a stirring within his heart and the will to
continue living.

He had always liked Jenny. She was such a
calm little soul, with a dry sense of humor behind all of her
practicality. And she'd grown into a lovely, desirable woman. He
wanted her so badly, his body throbbed with pain.

Hearing the crunch of straw on the floor,
Robert saw Damien enter the stable. He concentrated on brushing
Titus's underside until it gleamed. "It's no use ringing a peal
over my head, Demon. I know perfectly well I abandoned my manners.
I saw Jenny's eyes when I left. Damn it, what a tangle!"

Damien went to the front of the stall and
stroked the horse's velvety nose. "I've enjoyed your friendship for
many years, Rob. That's the first time I've ever known you to lose
your composure."

Robert leaned against the horse's flank and
shook his head. "I feel like the devil."

Damien grinned. "I'm the only devil around
here, remember?" He took the currycomb and helped finish brushing
the big gelding. Hanging the comb on its hook near the stall, he
seated himself on a bale of hay. "What's the problem? Dinner was
running smoothly. Nice touch, that jewel-embedded knife. Miss
Sedgewicke was only trying to be helpful and went about it
unobtrusively."

Robert gave Titus a handful of oats. "Yes, I
know she did. Only . . . I hate this feeling of helplessness. I
don't want to be a damned invalid for the rest of my life."

"Give yourself time," Damien said. "You're
making progress--slowly, I'll admit--but progress, just the
same."

Robert glanced sideways at
his friend. "I'll tell you something, Demon. I don't know if you
realize it, but the day I took the gig . . . at first, I didn't
care if it
did
overturn."

He watched for some kind of reaction and was
surprised when Damien merely nodded.

"The doctor warned us you might be
suicidal," Damien said. "Your man and I were keeping a close watch.
So was Miss Sedgewicke. I may not have a high regard for women, yet
Jenny Sedgewicke is one of the few whom I trust. I knew she would
take good care of you."

Robert patted Titus's shining neck. "She's
an angel, isn't she? I don't think I could have made it through
this damnable fiasco without her."

"So why did you spurn her help and make such
a scene at dinner?" Damien asked. "The peach wasn't the only
problem--there's something else, isn't there?"

"To tell the truth, I'm in a hell of a fix
with Felicia." Damien snapped off a piece of hay, and placed it in
his mouth. "From what I can see, it shouldn't take much to set
things to rights. True, your fiancée is not in the least bit
lover-like. She can't bear to look at you; she's uncomfortable with
the loss of your arm. I've never believed Lady Felicia was the
woman for you," he said. "Now, on the other hand, Miss Sedgewicke
is head over heels in love with you. If you don't know that by now,
you're buffle-headed."

Robert smiled crookedly. "And what would you
know about love? You've spent your life despising women, avoiding
emotional entanglements, and swearing eternal freedom from the
cat's paw."

Damien laughed. "True--but I'm an exception
to the rule. Most people spend their whole lives searching for
love. I can recognize it when I see it, and Jenny Sedgewicke
definitely loves you."

"I hope so." Robert ran his fingers through
his black hair. "Because I've discovered I love Jenny more than I
ever dreamed possible. Yet, if she returns my love, it only makes
everything worse. I spoke to Felicia earlier this afternoon. Her
obvious embarrassment about my arm led me to believe she'd welcome
an end to our engagement. We agreed we didn't love each other and I
thought all would be well. I was anxious to declare myself to
Jenny, you see."

Damien stood and brushed the hay from his
biscuit-colored trousers. "So, what's to keep you from your heart's
desire? Felicia certainly doesn't want you near her."

Robert slammed his fist
against the door frame. "That's just it. Felicia refuses to call
off the engagement for fear of what the ton will think of her. Also
her father doesn't want a scandal.
I
can't end it in all honor, as she
so sweetly informed me, because gentlemen don't cry off from
engagements."

Damien whistled softly. "Surely the
circumstances . . . ?"

Robert shook his head.

"You couldn't apply directly to Lord Thane?"
he asked.

"How can I without looking the knave?"
Robert replied. "There has to be a way out of this tangle," Damien
said thoughtfully.

Robert searched Damien's face, hoping
against hope he might have an answer. "If you see a way clear of
this imbroglio, I'd be forever in your debt."

"For God's sake, don't
enact me a Cheltenham tragedy," Damien said. "One thing's for
certain. You will
not
marry Lady Felicia Marlow. Give me time to think. Surely, we
can discover a way out of this coil."

****

Near midnight, Alexandra sat at her
worktable in the observatory. She stared at the thesis she had
worked so hard on. She felt like throwing it in the fire. How dare
Rochdale make advances to a maid at Willowmede? She had known all
along his kisses meant nothing. He merely amused himself with the
female sex. He was incapable of tender emotions.

A footfall sounded on the stairs, and Alex
jerked her head toward the door. As if conjured by thought,
Rochdale stood there; an intensity emanating from his powerful
body.

With careful concentration, he crossed the
room and flung himself into a chair next to Alex. He grinned at her
in a wolfish fashion, his teeth startling bright in his tanned
face. He had been drinking; he reeked of brandy.

"You're certainly in no condition to work
tonight," she said, eyeing him with disgust.

"You work, I'll watch." Leaning back in his
chair, Damien rested his booted feet on the workbench. He clasped
his hands behind his head, and looked at Alex. "You may proceed, my
beautiful vixen."

Alex jumped up and pushed Damien's boots off
her worktable. "Both of us should go to bed. I'm in no mood to work
tonight." She collected her papers and stacked them neatly in a
pile.

In the next instance, she felt strong hands
on her shoulders. Rochdale swung her around to face him. "Is that
an invitation, my love?" Before she had time to reply, his mouth
claimed hers in a fierce kiss.

Alex tried to push away, but Damien held her
fast. She willed herself not to respond and stood rigid in his
arms.

In a moment, he lifted his head and stared
deeply into her eyes. "Kiss me, damn you. Kiss me back." All traces
of drink were gone.

Alex wrenched herself from his grasp. She
wanted to slap his handsome, lying face. "Why should I kiss you,
Damien? You share your kisses far too freely. Or wasn't Lucy
accommodating enough?"

"Who the hell is Lucy?" he yelled.

"You don't know?" Alex stared at him. "My
God, you're worse than I thought. You force your attentions on an
unsuspecting maid, and you don't even know her name. Lucy is the
young servant who brought your shaving water this afternoon."

"
I
forced my attentions...? That
little baggage threw herself at me as soon as Brewster left the
room."

Alex arched her brow in disbelief and
Rochdale curled his lips disdainfully. She realized he'd retreated
behind his cynical facade.

He executed a low bow. "I see you prefer to
believe the word of a stranger, a servant whom you've known less
than a month, instead of me, whom you've known most of your life.
I've never lied to you, Alex. I never will." Turning on his heel,
he strode to the door.

"What am I supposed to
believe?" Alexandra cried. "I've heard horrible stories about you
for years. Your reputation is the biggest
on dit
in town." She dashed
treacherous tears from her eyes. "I was beginning to think most of
the tales couldn't be true. How could they be? You've been so
patient with Robert, and you've helped me with my thesis. You can't
be as black as people paint you."

Rochdale sneered. "Oh yes, I can. They call
me Demon with good cause. The stories are true. Trust me."

"I trusted you once," she said softly.
"You're my brother's best friend, and I've liked you since I was a
little girl. What changed between us, Damien? I never quite
understood. For the past several weeks, it's almost been like old
times. We've worked well together, and I've enjoyed our discussions
on the George and the stars." Her voice was barely a whisper now.
"I thought we could be friends again."

Damien paused and looked back. His eyes
glittered savagely. "We can never be friends, Alexandra." He
slammed the door and was gone.

The next morning, Damien
poured himself a cup of hot coffee and filled his plate with eggs,
ham, fresh baked scones, and raspberry preserves. He sat at the far
end of the table, well away from Alexandra and Miss Sedgewicke.
Alex barely acknowledged his presence and kept her eyes firmly
fixed on her copy of the
London
Times
. The dark circles under her eyes
emphasized her unusually pale complexion.

Damien heard a commotion outside the door of
the breakfast parlor and a familiar voice saying: "No need to show
me the way, Sterling. I know Willowmede like the inside of my palm.
Been here many times. I'll announce myself."

The door was thrust open and the Right
Honorable Mr. Garrett Fleming stood on the threshold. Alex jumped
up in obvious delight and ran to him. Damien clenched his jaw as
she kissed him on the cheek.

Garr smiled triumphantly. "Told Sterling he
needn't announce me," he said, crossing the room and shaking
Damien's hand.

"Oh, Garr, do sit down and have some
breakfast," Alex said. "Jenny, you remember Garrett Fleming? He
brought Robert to London from Spain. Help yourself, Garr, and I'll
ring for a fresh pot of coffee."